


You Really Are Something Else

by kiszkakiss



Category: Greta Van Fleet (Band)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Humor, My First AO3 Post, My First Fanfic, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 21:35:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20589473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiszkakiss/pseuds/kiszkakiss
Summary: You and Jake play a small gig, it's a bit of an open mic deal. He’s supportive, encouraging and a little shit, basically. Some tension of the romantic/sexual variety, kind of.





	You Really Are Something Else

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, this is my first ever fic…? I’m not even entirely sure what this is or where exactly it was going. I just took a little bit of my experience with small gigs here and there.

Anxiety coursed through your whole body. Looking at yourself in the full-length mirror that hung in the green room and adjusting your striped, sequin adorned top, you struggled to keep your balance on your stupidly high heels. So much regret; your toes were already starting to feel numb. You thought you looked good, at least. The door clicked open and closed behind you.  
“Nice pants. Are those leather? They look great.” Jake approached you, clearly a couple of beers deep already. He looked too calm and his cheeks were a little flushed.  
“No... pleather.” you explained.  
“Ready?” He prodded another question.  
“Also no.” Pausing for a moment, you pretended to think. He looked at you with a smirk, ready for you to say something stupid. “Do you think anyone would notice if I snuck out?” You let out a dry chuckle. Jake’s face turned sympathetic and he rested his hand on your shoulder.  
“You better not. I need you out there with me!” He nudged you. You shook your head, your smile falling a little, and looked down at the black and white checked floor. Jake’s hand moved to your other shoulder, down to your arm and he squeezed you closer to him. You could smell cigarettes and alcohol on his breath as he spoke.  
“Come on. You can do this.”

The two of you walked out to scattered cheers and applause. Jake sat down on a rickety-looking chair, plugged in his acoustic guitar and adjusted his amp. You stood, with shaking knees, behind the microphone stand and looked out to friends and family that took up the space in front of the tiny stage. They were tinted blue and red from the stage lights.  
“Check 1, 2...” you muttered shakily into the microphone and it echoed slightly into the room as Jake made sure his guitar was tuned correctly. You glanced at him as he strummed the first chord and you closed your eyes. Before you knew it, you were singing.

-

Thanking your familiar audience, Jake stood by your side as you took a quick bow before leaving the stage and collapsing on the noticeably used couch in the green room. Your 10-minute set didn’t go as smoothly as you had hoped; you forgot a couple of lyrics here and there, but you didn’t think anyone noticed. Jake was on point as usual but that wasn’t surprising.  
“I can’t believe I did that!” You sighed, genuinely shocked and wiping the sweat from your brow, taking some of your make-up along with it. Jake scoffed.  
“Hey, I believe it! You don’t know how talented you are.”  
“Yeah, alright, _Harry Styles_.” You mocked and he laughed; the sound deep and warm.  
“Honestly, you really are something else.” His tone was serious. You didn’t do serious.  
“Okay.” You stood up from your comfy position on the couch to look at yourself in the mirror, once again. “Help me get out of these shoes. Just let me see how great they make my ass look one last time. I won’t be wearing these for a long while after this.” You twisted your body, admiring yourself. Running your hands over your hourglass shape and sighing. Jake coughed uncomfortably and you spun around to look at him.  
“Sit down, then.” He gestured to the couch, but you felt yourself starting to wobble and reached for him.  
“No, you come over here, please.” Jake hesitated but did what you asked, standing up and walking over to you.  
You giggled, “We’re the same height when I wear heels.”  
“Yeah, well, not for long.”  
You held onto Jakes shoulders and felt his tight grip on your arms, helping you balance. He felt firm and muscular. His long, wavy hair was sticking to his forehead, still sweaty, and his cheeks were rosier than you’d ever seen them. It was your turn to feel uncomfortable. You cleared your throat before you stepped out of one shoe and then the other.  
“Thanks.” You smiled up at him; back to your usual, petite stature.  
“No problem, shorty.” He patted your head and you playfully smacked his arm away.  
“Rude.”  
“What? You _are_ short, shorty.” He was really trying to irritate you and you didn’t have a clever come-back.  
“You _are_ annoying.” Jake snorted at your attempt at a retort, placing his hand on the small of your back and guiding you out to the main area where your family and friends were waiting.


End file.
